The Notorious Lord Havergal (24 page)

He recognized her writing from countless business letters in the past, but it wasn’t time for a check, and his heart began thumping in his throat. Now what had he done wrong? This would be some new shower of abuse, no doubt, or more likely a notice that she was discontinuing as guardian of Horace’s trust.

He went to his study to read it in private and was undone by the simple sincerity of her words. Hope rose in his breast, and instead of sending the diamonds, he took them to Reddishes Hotel himself, envisaging a reconciliation. It was a disappointment to find the whole party was out. He decided to wait and went into the lobby. For a long ninety minutes he sat, not moving a limb, while his mind raced to the heights of hope, only to plunge in a moment to the depths of despair. In that ninety minutes he was turned off scornfully, married to Lettie, resumed his life of vice, and became a hermit, all without moving a limb.

When at last he spied Norton and Miss FitzSimmons entering, he dashed out to meet them. “Where is Lettie?” he demanded.

“We are just on our way to Somerset House to pick her up, as soon as Vi puts away her parcels. She wanted to see the pictures. Lettie is a great one for art,” Norton added, though this was, in fact, the first manifestation of her love. “Will you join us, laddie, and we’ll all stop somewhere for a glass of wine? It is dry work, shopping. We had a dandy time, Vi has bought out half the shops in London.”

“You are tired,” Havergal said at once. “Let me pick Lettie up and deliver her back here.”

“That is mighty kind of you,” Norton said, smiling. “We’ll all go along.”

Miss FitzSimmons saw the shadow pass over Havergal’s face and said, “Oh do let us rest, Ned. I am fagged to death. We’ll have a nice cup of tea in that parlor you keep standing ready for us, and Havergal and Lettie will join us later.”

Norton would have preferred to be darting around town in a crested carriage, but he knew his fiancée’s wishes must take precedence at this time and smiled obligingly. “Just as you wish, my dear. You’ll join us for dinner, lad? We won’t take no for an answer.”

“I would like you all to join me at my house. I am deeply enough in your debt already, Ned.”

“It would be a pleasure,” Norton said. “I think we can answer for Lettie and Tom as well, eh Vi? They would like it of all things. But we’ll see you and Lettie here before that, I hope?”

“Certainly you will.”

Havergal hurried off.

“We might have gone with him,” Ned mentioned, but just once and not in a condemning way.

“Oh Ned, you are blind as a bat. He is in love with her. Give them some privacy. You know lovebirds want to be alone,” she said, leading him to the private parlor.

“There is nothing nicer, though I shouldn’t have minded taking a glimpse at those pictures.”

* * * *

Havergal was daunted by the crush of visitors at Somerset House. It seemed impossible to find Lettie amidst the swell of moving bodies. He didn’t even know what she was wearing. He spent a few minutes looking over the tops of heads for a familiar bonnet, then his eyes were drawn to the grand staircase. He saw her, standing stock-still in the middle of her descent, staring at him as if she’d seen a ghost.

Lettie couldn’t believe the evidence of her eyes. He had come! And in her heart she knew he had come for her, that he had discovered her whereabouts. She drifted down the stairs as he advanced toward her, both like souls in a trance. They met at the bottom of the staircase. Havergal reached for her hand and tucked it under his arm. “Ned told me you were here” is all he said, and even those few words sounded strained.

They left, still without speaking. There was so much to say, yet without a word being spoken, they both sensed that the crisis was at hand. It was not till they were in Havergal’s carriage that Lettie said, “Did you receive my note?”

“Not till an hour ago. I left early for the House this morning. I went to your hotel the minute I received it.”

“I hope you aren’t very angry with me?” she asked in a small voice.

She noticed then that he was squeezing her fingers painfully hard. “I was afraid you were going to drop the trust” was his reply.

This irrelevancy seemed perfectly clear to Lettie. “No, why should I?”

He gazed into her eyes. “Because I am—unworthy of your time and thought.”

“Oh Jacob, don’t say such things. I have behavedvery badly to you, not trusting you...."

“How could you trust a libertine such as I? Till I met you, I never gave a thought to anything but amusing myself. I have changed—”

She smiled a watery smile and found her finger touching his cheek. “I know, and I refused to see it. When you and Crymont were making that tryst at the inn ...”

“Norton’s ball,” he nodded, covering the fingers on his cheek with his own and squeezing. “He just wanted me to vouch for his check with the proprietor. Ran himself into the ground at the Southampton races. Is that why you didn’t come to your dinner party?” He took her hand and lifted it to his lips.

“I did have a migraine,” she said, watching as his dark head bent over her fingers, his lips nibbling kisses.

Then he lifted his eyes, and she felt herself drowning in their bottomless depths. A slow smile grew on his lips. “I have that effect on a lot of people,” he said. “Most particularly on Mr. Beddoes, I fear?”

“I wasn’t exactly frank with you either, was I, letting you think I was a man.”

His hand went to her shoulder and pulled her closer, nestling her head in the crock of his neck. “You were always mean to me,” he teased softly in her ear. “I think you turned Tom against me as well. He all but cut me dead when I tried to help him.”

“Yes, because I warned him away from you. A pity he hadn’t remembered I also warned him away from the duke.”

His head came up. “Was Crymont the cause of his debts?”

“Crymont, a Mrs. Reno, his own stupidity, and of course his inexperience. But he is coming along nicely. He says he will redeem my diamonds.”

Havergal remembered the necklace and rifled in his pocket for the box. “I got them yesterday. My final grand gesture.” He handed her the box.

“One more gesture than my selfish nature would have made, under the circumstances,” she said with a flush of pride for his generosity. “Thank you, Jacob. Tom will pay you for them.” She looked out the window at meadows and a farm and said, “Your groom is going the wrong way! We seem to be heading into the country,”

“I told Crooks to take a spin out the Chelsea Road before driving to the hotel.”

She turned a suspicious eye on him. “Why?”

“Because there aren’t so many carriages here. Since I am now a respectable working lord, I must set a good example. It wouldn’t do for me to be making love in a crowded city. I can just imagine the cartoons!”

His arms closed around her, and in view of a passing curricle and a mounted rider, his reformed lips found hers for a ruthless kiss. Her head spun, and the blood in her veins felt like brandy. It was another unreal moment. Jacob loved her. In spite of the unlikelihood—her modest means and background, her greater age, and her astringent nature—he loved her. She returned the pressure of that embrace, swelling with joy and opening herself to the pleasure of love. When she opened her eyes, she saw the mounted rider peering through the window with the liveliest curiosity.

She pulled away, embarrassed. Havergal saw where she was looking and waved to the rider. “That was Sir Alfred Moreland, an honorable member of the opposition. You’ll have to marry me, to save my reputation,” he said. She smiled softly, and he added, “That wasn’t a very elegant proposal, was it, darling? I’ll do better, when we have more privacy.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“And perhaps—just a suggestion—you might work up enough interest to supply an answer?”

“I wouldn’t want to contribute to your poor reputation.”

“That wasn’t a very elegant acceptance either.”

“I have very little experience in saying yes. I’ll do better, too, when we have more privacy. I know you don’t care what others might say about your marrying an older lady, Jacob, but—” He gave a tsk of dismissal. “What—what do you think your father will have to say about this engagement?”

“He will say ‘Amen’ and breathe a sigh of relief. I have already discussed you with Papa. He hoped for something of the sort when he encouraged me to dash off to Norton’s place. He had already met you and urged you not to give up Horace’s trust. I would have proposed before I left Ashford if I had realized Papa approved. I fully intended to marry you, with or without his approval, but preferably with. I have not been a good son. I hope to be a better one in future.”

“Your father didn’t suggest anything of the sort to me," she replied doubtfully.

“Nor to me, till I told him my feelings. He knew  that would be the likeliest way to get my back up. But then I don’t have to tell you about the obstinacy of my nature, Lettie. It was when you gave me that Bear Garden jaw that I began to appreciate you. I couldn’t imagine any lady not falling for my drunken charm and debauchery.”

“It is always a challenge for a lady to reform a hardened rake,” she said blandly.

He gave her a challenging smile. “I must bear that in mind and not become too tame a husband.”

“And I must keep my claws sharp, to keep you in line.”

* * * *

“A round of the bubbly!” Norton decreed when he heard the announcement of their betrothal. “Glad to hear you two are joining the society of us old married folks. Yessir, there is nothing like a good woman, eh laddie? Unless it is a good man, heh, heh.”

“Or even a bad one,” Havergal added. Norton shot him a sharp look. “I mean myself, Ned. You are the salt of the earth.”

“So are you, laddie. I would have to say Lettie has done pretty well for herself—a title and a fortune—at her age! And you are not at all an ill-favored lad for looks either. I had no idea this match was brewing. I had the notion Lettie thought you were—Heh, heh, obviously I was mistaken.”

Lettie and Havergal exchanged a private smile. “Yes, obviously we were mistaken,” Lettie allowed. “And now let us make that toast.”

Copyright © 1991 by Joan Smith

ISBN: 0449218465

Electronically published in 2014 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.